


Misfortune of the Black Cat

by ParadiseAvenger



Category: Shugo Chara!
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseAvenger/pseuds/ParadiseAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ikuto has always known bad luck. He's always been scorned and turned away. On a cold night when he has no place to go for shelter, Amu finds him and brings him home like the stray he is. But he's been hurt too many times to trust that easily. AmuXIkuto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Freezing Night in the Alley

Please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

…

The plotline for Shugo Chara kind of annoys me. Their powers are all really lame (except Ikuto’s of course). I literally just watch the show for Ikuto and I like Amu when she’s not being all… super-lame… (And I hate her freaking name. Why couldn’t she be Ami? Amu sounds like a bird…) So, that’s how I feel!

So much for not starting a new story… Grr!

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

“Black cats…” his sister whispered as she watched him walk away, completely alone. His shadow stretched across the cold black macadam, shining dimly with the wet gleam of rain. His body was so thin, his shadow even thinner, so that he really did look like a starving stray cat. She wondered if the free stray cat persona that he had become was what he really wanted to be or what he simply thought he was. People had been treating him like a stray animal his entire life—worse than a stray even. He was an unwanted black cat, unlucky and hated and misunderstood. 

“Black cats,” she whispered again. She had read somewhere that in medieval times, superstitious people had slaughtered, massacred, and butchered black cats out of fear and spite. At midsummer, sometimes, there was a ritual burning of black cats. Now, in modern times, shelters refused to adopt out black cats near Halloween, fearing that they would be tortured or used as living decorations before being abandoned. (1) It was unfortunate that out of all things her brother could have been, he became a stray tormented black cat—unlucky, hated, and misunderstood.

“Black cats,” she whispered one final time with a soft sad sigh. She wished there was something she could do for him, anything… anything at all. But, as there was nothing she could do for a feral cat living on the street, there was nothing she could do for her brother. She didn’t even know where he slept at night or kept his clothes or when his last good meal was. He was alone, his body looked half-starved, and his only possession was their father’s violin. He was a stray cat, flitting into her life to check on her and then leaving into the darkness again, just like an unwanted unlucky stray black cat.

…

The night was cold and deep black, starless, moonless, too close to winter for anyone to be outside in his condition, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go. The outside world, the alleys and streets, the gutters and ghettos, the stoops of kind old women, was the only home he had left anymore—just like a stray cat. A life like that might have been alright for a stray cat, but he wasn’t a cat. He was a human boy without even fur or a jacket to keep him warm. He had left the house where his sister and step-father lived too quickly, eager to escape that gilded cage, and had forgotten everything except his most precious violin. Now, on the dark street, it was all he carried with him.

He shuddered as a cold wind whipped down between the buildings around him, wrapping his arms around his thin body and feeling the bones beneath the skin. It was too cold, too dark, too much. All he wanted was to sleep someplace warm, someplace safe, someplace where there was light and pillows and blankets. It was sad that he asked for so little yet… if it was so little to ask for, something most people even took for granted, why was it so hard for him to find what he so desperately wanted?

Another gust tore through his thin body, whipping through his thin black shirt and jeans. He felt like a shard of the night, blown about by the wind. He shuddered again, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. He didn’t want his only friend—Yoru, who was snuggled inside his shirt against his bare skin, safe and warm and out of sight—to know that he felt on the edge of the world. If he took one more step, the dark and cold would just swallow him up. He would cease to be and no one would miss him.

His little sister, Utau, was probably better off without him. She kept doing bad things, shady things, twisted things, all in the hope that she could somehow help him, save him, bring him back home. If she didn’t have him to worry about, then maybe she could get out of this snarled life. She had a beautiful voice, a pretty face, talent and kindness. With all that, she could go far—if only he wasn’t in her way, holding her back, worrying her. She would miss him though. God, would she ever miss him. 

The boy he had grown up with who considered him an older brother, Tadase, wouldn’t miss him either. To Tadase, he was only an inconvenience, not even a true enemy worth his time. He was just a thieving black cat, out of sight and out of mind. When their paths happened to cross, Tadase fought him and reminded him of the deep-seated hatred between them. He vaguely knew there was a misunderstanding between them that might have been fixed, but he didn’t hold out that hope.

Maybe that girl, Amu… the strong one, the joker in the deck, the one who had heard him play the violin once, the one who had tried her best to help him even when she barely knew who or what he was. But, no… She was Tadase’s friend. He couldn’t go to her. Being Tadase’s friend made her his enemy and he wasn’t someone worth breaking alliances and friendships over. Who went out of their way to save a stray cat? A pet, maybe, but not a stray. And he was only a stray.

He shuddered again as the wind blew through him and felt Yoru shift inside his shirt as he became aware of the cold outside the protective fabric. The stray boy cupped his hand over the little creature hiding inside his shirt, keeping him warm even as another shudder of cold rattled through his bones. See, he wasn’t a bad person. He was just… out of place and unwanted, unlucky and misunderstood, like a stray black cat on the street.

His teeth were on the point of breaking if he clenched them any harder, his bones rattled together like ice cubes in a glass, his thin body was bare of any fat to keep him warm, and his clothes were too thin to protect him. If he stayed out here, on the street in the night, he would freeze to death… But, did it even matter? The only thing he had to live for was Yoru and if he died, Yoru would cease to exist along with him. There wasn’t much reason to fight the cold and death. 

He ducked into an alley, out of the tearing claws of the wind, and hunkered down against the wall. He gathered his long legs against his chest like a pair of twigs, pressed the violin case against his side, and tucked his head down. Breathing softly, he told himself that he wasn’t cold. He wasn’t in an alley. He wasn’t going to freeze to death and he wasn’t alone. He wrapped himself up in a blanket of pretty lies, being sure all the while to keep Yoru warm within the shelter of his body. 

It was all he could do, really. It wasn’t as if he had a home to go to or friends to depend on or even a blanket that was purely his to keep warm with. He and Yoru and his father’s violin… that was all he had in this world save the alleys, streets, stoops—lies, broken promises, shattered dreams, and bruises. Shivering again, he pulled his body, single possession, and single friend a little closer. He tried to forget his lies. He imagined a warm bed with thick downy quilts, a few pillows, and a glass of water on the nightstand—his simple fantasy. Then, even though he probably shouldn’t have, he drifted off to sleep.

**X:X:X**

Hinamori Amu was going home. She had her head tucked against the cold breeze. She was dressed warmly in a knitted hat slouched low over her brow and ears, a thick scarf around her neck, toasty knitted gloves, plus a winter pea coat and thick fur-lined boots. She was pleasantly warm though each gust of icy air howling through the buildings reminded her that it was not a good night to be without a jacket and a hat. Luckily, she had both and more.

Suddenly, a black cat darted from the shadows and streaked across her path. Yowling, it vanished within the shadows of an alleyway. 

A lesser person would have crossed themselves and turned in a circle to ward off bad luck, but Amu’s mind didn’t immediately turn in that direction. Her first thought was of Tsukiyomi Ikuto. She had seen him a few days ago and thought he looked thinner and more worn-down than usual. Winter—Christmas—was coming and she had a feeling he wouldn’t be going home. 

In the alley, the black cat that had crossed her path yowled loudly.

Another icy gust blew through Amu and she shuddered. She hoped Ikuto had found a safe place tonight, someplace warm and out of this god-awful wind. She ducked her head again, rubbing her cold hands together even though she was wearing gloves. It really was cold tonight.

The cat yowled again, but there was something about the sound that made Amu stop and turn. She waited, listening, but the cry didn’t come again until she had once again turned to leave. It was as if the cat was pleading with her, urging her to come, to look, to see, to help…

Amu stared at the dark mouth of the alley, recalling all those stories she had heard about kidnappers, rapists, and molesters. They were said to often use the phrase, ‘Can you help me find my kitty?’ or ‘Would you like some candy?’ It might have been only a superstition, like the black cat, but Amu didn’t want to be added to a statistic. She turned away, prepared to ignore the cat if and when it cried out again. She made it a few steps, putting the alley behind her.

Then, the cat screamed and the sound was so human in its pain that Amu froze in her tracks. This time, the cat didn’t stop now as if knowing it had caught her attention. It continued to yowl and scream and shriek, the sound chilling Amu’s blood. She darted back to the alley, wishing she had a flashlight with her, but the moment she reached the mouth of the alley, the cat stopped howling. Its yellow eyes shone in the darkness, beseeching. Now, it meowed softly and pawed at something in the dark.

“Is that a…” Amu choked out, “…a body?” 

The cat meowed again and sat, watching her urgently with its golden eyes.

Eyeing the shadows for movement, Amu stepped into the darkness of the alley, going toward the gleam of the cat’s yellow eyes for guidance. She tripped over something and went down on her knees, cursing softly. She groped in the dark with her hands and then she felt it. The cat was nudging her, purring, and guiding her once again. The cat pushed her hands to the right until Amu felt something that wasn’t brick wall or garbage as she had been expecting. It was something that was still warm, something breathing, something… alive.

“W-who?” she whispered.

The cat meowed, still sitting there, watching her. Its golden eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Amu fumbled around for her phone. The screen was rather bright and it was better than the total darkness she was immersed in. Managing to find it, she pressed a button and squinted in the harsh bright light of the cell phone. Then, like a flashlight, she aimed the faint light at what the cat had guided her hand to. Her breath caught in her throat, frozen there like an ice-covered stone.

It was Ikuto!

Amu yelped, scrambling backwards, thanking heaven that she was wearing gloves so the rough concrete didn’t tear up her skin. The black cat meowed again, pleadingly, and Amu glanced away from Ikuto to the cat. Then, her eyes flew back to Ikuto’s fallen form. He was pressed against the brick wall, wedged into the corner where the wall met the green dumpster. His legs were pulled up against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them and his violin case tucked tightly against his side. The only sign that he was even still alive were the puffs of breath visible in the cold air. 

“Ikuto!” Amu gasped out and gripped his narrow shoulders, shaking him gingerly. She didn’t want to risk hurting him, unsure of why he was pressed in the corner of a dark alley when it was so cold and late, alone and half-frozen. What if he was hurt? What if he was dying? She whispered again, “Ikuto!” 

He groaned, his eyelids fluttering weakly. 

“Ikuto!”

His sapphire eyes eased open and stared at her for a moment without fully seeming to recognize her. Then, he blinked and gazed into her face. “Amu,” he murmured. “What… what are you doing… this late… when it’s… cold…?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. He was sleeping in an alley on the border of wintertime and he was asking her that? She snorted, “What are you doing, Ikuto?”

He glanced at his surroundings and seemed to realize what he had just said. His lips pulled up in a thin frail smile. “Ah, I’m sleeping,” he said. His teeth chattered at the end of his sentence and he clenched them tightly to stop the sound from escaping. 

“Here?” she repeated. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, his teeth chattered, and he snapped it closed. What was he supposed to tell her anyway? That he was sleeping in a freezing alley because he didn’t have a home to go home to? That he didn’t even have a bed or a blanket? That he was as homeless and unwanted as a stray black cat in Salem during the Witch Trials? He turned his sapphire gaze away, staring into the darkness.

“Well?” she asked him. She was tempted to cross her arms over her chest and tap her foot, but Ikuto flinched at her words as if she had physically struck him. Softly, gingerly, she asked again, “Ikuto, why are you sleeping here?”

“I don’t…” he trailed off, biting his lower lip.

There was movement within his black shirt and a sweet little cat face peeked up over the edge of his collar. “We don’t have any place to go, Amu-chan, nya…” Yoru murmured, seemingly unaware that Ikuto was trying to hide that.

“Yoru,” Ikuto hissed and pushed his little guardian back down inside the front of his shirt.

Amu just stared at him. “You… don’t… have anywhere to go?” she whispered. “So you’re sleeping… here?”

Ikuto didn’t look at her, ashamed.

With a sigh, Amu crouched beside him and began peeling off some clothing. She took off her hat first and slipped it on over his head, pulling it down over his eyes and ears carelessly. Then, she unwound her scarf from her own neck and twined it around Ikuto’s thin throat instead. Finally, she tugged off her gloves and reached for his hand. He shied away at first, as if her hands had transformed into claws, but finally allowed her to touch him. Visibly, he sighed as her warmth seeped into his icy flesh. 

“God, your fingers are like ice,” she whispered.

Disgraced, he tried to pull away, but his hand seemed to be working against his arm. Even as he pulled away, his fingers twined almost desperately with hers, seeking the warmth she offered. Gingerly, Amu rubbed his fingers between her palms and then did her best to fit her small gloves over his larger hands. Luckily, the gloves were knit and stretched to the limit to accommodate him. There was no way he’d fit inside her coat and she didn’t really have anything else to take off, but gloves, a hat, and a scarf didn’t seem like adequate protection against the icy cold.

“Ikuto,” she said finally, still gripping his hand. “You can’t stay out here. It’s too cold. You’ll…” 

He turned away and she had a feeling he was ashamed of the situation he was in. It had never been so apparent that he was the unlucky black cat. On a freezing night like this, he had no place to go—no place to call home, no warm safe shelter. He was here, sleeping in an alley.

“Come on,” she said and tugged on his hands.

He struggled to get to his feet—his feet were cold and uncooperative and his legs were numb though some feeling was coming back into his ears and hands. His chest where Yoru was nestled against him was the only warm place on his body save where Amu was still gripping his hand. He reached for his violin case, but his fingers were too numb to close around the strap. Amu lifted it for him and shouldered it with a small smile. 

“It’s alright,” she said softly.

Ikuto shied away under her gaze, following her from the alleyway like the stray black cat he was. Once they were out, Amu glanced back into the alley and saw that the black cat that had guided her was gone as if it had never even existed. 

The icy wind continued to gust at them through the darkness—howling through the trees and rattling branches, blowing through the high buildings and shaking the windows. Beside her, she heard a chattering sound and realized that it was Ikuto’s teeth. She glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead. His face was pale, but he had one hand cupped over Yoru inside his shirt. She smiled softly. He really was… a good person, she realized.

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

(1) This is all true. They used to slaughter and burn black cats in England which is why they think the Black Plague hit them so hard. Less cats meant more rats and since the fleas on rats brought the plague… do the math. Even now, shelters won’t adopt out black cats near Halloween. Weirdly enough, a lot of other cultures (like Japan) think black cats are an omen of good luck. I, personally, love black cats except when they sleep on your white clothes.

Questions, comments, concerns?

Review! I demand three whole reviews before I post the next chapter! (I’m incredibly demanding, right? Just do it.)


	2. The Warm Embrace of a Bed

This is kind of cannon, but I got rid of most of the interactions with the guardian characters because they annoy the living daylights out of me. I usually watch more mature anime… But I just adore Ikuto.

And, WOW, you guys totally met and exceeded my review demand! So, as promised, here’s the update. (Earlier than expected…)

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

Amu’s house was dark. (Her parents had gone out to their once-monthly adults-only dinner and had left Ami with a babysitter until later. Most of the time Amu watched her sister, but it was the unspoken agreement that on the night they went out together, Amu had the night to herself as well. Usually, she liked the alone time, but missed her little sister’s and parent’s constant company. She was used to them always being around. But tonight, she was grateful that the house was empty.)

She fished out her keychain from her pocket, found the house key amid the many keychains and other keys, unlocked the door, and ushered Ikuto inside. She flipped on the lights, peeled off her woolen pea coat, and laid Ikuto’s violin case down on the foyer table. Ikuto leaned heavily on the wall, soaking in the heat of the house with a sigh. There was movement inside his shirt and Yoru peeked out, also sighing in relief as the heat embraced them. 

Amu busily pulled the hat, scarf, and gloves from Ikuto’s body and put them away with her coat in the closet. Then, she just stood there, unsure of what to do with him now. His sapphire eyes slid slowly open and he gazed at her, patient, waiting to see what she would do now. There was a certain darkness in the depths of his blue eyes that made Amu think he expected her to suddenly decide this was a bad idea and push him back out the door into the cold.

“Ikuto?” she murmured.

He lowered his long lashes, hiding his eyes. “You… want me to go?”

She jolted. “No,” she said immediately. 

He glanced at her, something akin to desperate hope in his deep wine-dark eyes. “Really?”

Sadness gripped her heart. “I was just… I don’t know what to do with you… now,” she murmured.

A small thin smile curved his lips and he plucked Yoru from the front of his shirt, cradling the guardian in his hands. 

“How about… a hot shower?” she asked him, eyeing his blue-tinged fingertips and lips. 

He lifted his chin, smile growing.

Quickly, she added, “By yourself!”

A small wry laugh escape him. “I figured as much,” he said and then trailed off, sadness lining his face. “I’m…”

“Ikuto,” she murmured.

He shook his head, dark blue-black hair feathering against his pale cheeks. “Nothing.”

“The bathroom is right down the hall and to the left.”

He nodded, his eyes distant.

“I’ll get you some clothes, okay?” Amu said. “I’ll just knock and put everything on the vanity for you. The pink loofah is mine so you can use it.”

Again, he nodded gratefully. This time meeting her eyes.

A shiver ran through Amu’s body.

There was something… something… broken in his gaze, in his expression, in his face.

For a moment, they just stood there together in the hallway. Ikuto looked unable to move and Amu found herself not wanting to leave him. As a result, they were at a stand-off, each waiting for the other to move. Finally, Yoru broke the silence, floating from Ikuto’s cupped palms to hover in front of Amu’s face.

“Thanks, Amu-chan, nya,” Yoru said and then tugged a lock of Ikuto’s raven-dark hair. “Come on, Ikuto, nya.”

With a slight nod, he followed his guardian down the hallway to the bathroom. Amu watched him—the thinness of his back, the way his dark clothing clung to his shoulders, the pronounced limp that dominated his right leg, and the way he pressed his hand to his side as if an injury lurked there. Then, he slipped into the bathroom and closed the door softly. Amu stood there, staring at the closed door until she heard the water start up. Then, she hurried to the linen closet and took out a fresh towel for him and grabbed one of her father’s old shirts from the back. As promised, she knocked before opening the bathroom door. 

Strangely, though she wasn’t quite tempted to look at the outline of his body through the frosted glass of the shower stall, he called out, “D-don’t peek.”

“I won’t,” she said to him and then left the bathroom, leaning against the door on the outside. How strange, she would have thought that a guy like Ikuto would have been happy to show off his body, but there was nothing joking about the way he had said those words. Even the little tremor in his voice spoke volumes. There was something in his body, in his soul, in his heart, that he was ashamed of and didn’t want her or anyone else to see.

Amu’s head whirled with thoughts. 

What did she really know about Ikuto? Well, she knew Utau was his sister and that he was the son of a famous violinist. She knew his step-father ran the corporation Easter and was forcing Ikuto to work for them. His step-father also must have tormented Ikuto—she remembered a time Ikuto had had to steal his precious violin back after it had been taken from him. She knew he wanted the Embryo which meant he must have had a wish, but what could it be? Other than that, she really didn’t know that much about him. 

What had Ikuto been through?

How many times had he been hurt?

How many times had he had his heart bashed in?

How many times had his dreams and hopes been shattered?

How many times had someone turned him away like a stray black cat?

What kind of life could he have if he was sleeping in alleyways on freezing cold nights?

Amu sighed heavily and rubbed her face in her hands, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off an oncoming headache. Then, the bathroom door opened in a waft of warm steam and Ikuto stepped out, Yoru resting on his shoulder. In Amu’s father’s shirt, it became terribly obvious how thin Ikuto’s body was. The shirt was positively hanging off of him, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, but he was still wearing his own black jeans and they clung to his slender legs. Between the tight jeans and her father’s shirt, Ikuto looked like a scarecrow without a field—lost and out of place, strayed from his path.

“Hi,” he said softly, nervously.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him.

He shook his head, wrapping one arm around his middle. “Just… tired.”

“Are you still cold?”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then nodded.

“Maybe you’re sick,” Amu said and reached out to touch his forehead. His skin was cool, but not cold. His soft dark hair tickled the back of her hand. “I’ll get you a cup of tea. Maybe that will do the trick.”

His eyes met hers and held. She found herself unable to look away from his gaze, from the pain and sorrow and tinge of awe that lurked within those crystalline depths. Then, slowly, he leaned towards her and invaded her personal space as he always did when they happened to run into each other. This time though, there was something different about how his arms came around her small frame and pressed her tight against him. She could feel his ragged heartbeat, his uneven breathing, and the faint chill still coming off his body. His face tucked into the side of her neck, his fingers threading into her pale pink hair, his lean arms embracing her tightly. Then, just when she thought he would never let her go, he gently released her.

“Thank you, Amu,” he murmured.

She just stared at him, stunned. 

He slid his eyes sidelong and shifted.

Amu snapped out of her trance. “My room is, uh, just upstairs and second on the right.”

He nodded and moved towards the stairs, still limping. Then, he vanished around the bend in the stairs and Amu was standing there alone. She realized the heat in her face and pressed her fingers to her cheeks. Ikuto’s embrace had been… different than when he usually attached himself to her. There was something desperate about the way he had held on to her, something that said he expected her to push him away immediately like an unlucky omen. 

…

Minutes earlier, Ikuto gratefully stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, but didn’t lock it. Amu wouldn’t be able to bring him a towel if he locked the door, but… Shuddering with the chill that still lingered in his body, he started the hot water immediately, but then hesitated with his fingers at the hem of his shirt. Yoru was sitting on the vanity, watching him with understanding. Ikuto bit his lower lip and then peeled the shirt off, laying it gently on the vanity beside Yoru. He shivered as the cool air touched his exposed skin and glanced at the unlocked door.

This… this wasn’t like him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had bathed with the door unlocked. While he was showering, he was naked and he was defenseless and he was exposed and he was vulnerable. He didn’t like any of those feelings. But, if he locked the door, Amu couldn’t come in and give him a towel. How badly did he need one anyway, though? He could just drip-dry, right?

Naked, he glanced from the door to the inviting steam of the shower. 

But, he wasn’t at the house he shared with Utau and his step-father. He was in Amu’s home and Amu wasn’t about to go hurting him. She was the one who had gotten him off the street for the night. She was being so gentle with him. She was kind and she was sweet. He didn’t think she would hurt him, but he had been wrong before and he didn’t want to be wrong again.

He stared at the lock, thinking about how easy it would be to flip it.

Yoru was watching him, waiting to see what he’d do.

Finally, Ikuto pried his gaze away from the lock and stepped into the shower before he could change his mind. Not a moment later, there was a knock on the door and he heard Amu come in. That vulnerable naked feeling swarmed to the surface of his heart and he whispered out, “D-don’t peek.”

“I won’t,” she called honestly and he heard her leave.

A breath he didn’t realize he had been holding escaped his tight lungs and he leaned heavily on the cool tile wall for support. His worries had all been for nothing. Amu wasn’t going to attack him. She wasn’t waiting for that moment he dropped his guard to sleep or bathe or eat so she could tear into him. She was just a sweet girl, someone who had been there for him the few times he had needed her. Yoru was his guardian, but Amu was his guardian angel.

…

Amu hustled into the kitchen, brewed Ikuto a cup of chamomile tea, and then went upstairs. Despite it being her room, she hesitated at the door and decided to knock before entering as she had done earlier while he was showering. Inside, Ikuto was sitting on the floor in front of her bed, his legs gathered against his chest and his arms wrapped around them. Surprisingly, Amu had expected Ran, Miki, and Suu to be fussing over him, but her guardians were all sleeping in their eggs quietly. Yoru, she noticed, had joined them in the small woven basket.

Ikuto was just sitting there, patient, quiet, his blue eyes gleaming. 

Amu came to crouch beside him and pressed the warm mug into his hands. “Here, drink up.”

His fingers brushed slowly over hers as he took the mug. “Thank you,” he murmured.

She watched until he took a sip and then went to the closet and pulled out a thick afghan quilt that she kept as a spare blanket in the winter. If Ikuto had been a girl, she would have made room for him in her bed, but he was a boy and boys… Well, she had never had a boy spend the night, but she had a feeling boys were to sleep on the floor. She draped the afghan over him with a small smile and pulled a pillow off her bed. Heaped around the small table in the center of her room was a small collection of cushions and she gestured to them, blushing. 

“Make yourself comfortable, okay? I’m going to duck out and put on my pajamas.”

He nodded, sipping the tea in a state of bliss. Some color was returning to his lips and cheeks.

Amu grabbed her pajamas and darted from the room. For a moment, she hesitated and then peeked at Ikuto through the crack in the threshold of the door. He had the blanket pressed against his face, breathing deeply. Then, he squeezed the pillow gingerly, feeling the linen between his long fingers. It seemed almost like… he didn’t know what to with them or was treasuring them in his hands. Amu hurried downstairs to the bathroom, changed, and hurried back upstairs to her room.

Some hidden part of her didn’t want to leave Ikuto alone for very long. He seemed on the cusp of the end—as if one more unkind word or look would just push him into the pit of despair. When she returned to her bedroom, she found Ikuto curled, catlike, up in the center of a mess of cushions, wrapped tightly in the quilt.

She tiptoed to her bed, thinking that he was asleep, but his eyes were glowing in the dark. He was gazing at her bed with something akin to longing and she wondered why. Could he really not want to sleep on the floor or did he just want to sleep with her? She didn’t know what to say to him so she just bid him a soft goodnight and slipped beneath the covers of her comfortable bed. She sighed contentedly and sent up a silent prayer that her parents wouldn’t decide to peek into her room to check on her tonight.

…

As Ikuto gazed at Amu’s bed, he wondered if she realized just how lucky she was. He wondered if she realized that she had everything he had ever dreamed about, just in this house. A hot shower, a bed with pillows and blankets and a glass of water on the nightstand, family photographs resting on her desk. She had a life that he wanted desperately for himself.

When he was sure she was asleep, he sat up in the nest of comfortable cushions he had made for himself, the blankets sliding from his shoulders. He shivered slightly and gathered the blanket back up before getting to his feet and standing over Amu and her bed. If she woke up right now, it would be bad—she would probably toss him out like garbage, but he had to risk it. 

How long had it been since he had last slept in his bed? Or any bed, for that matter? He had almost forgotten what they felt like.

Gingerly, he perched on the mattress beside her, praying she would think his weight no more than that of a mere cat. The mattress sank slightly beneath him and he sighed softly in pleasure. Amu groaned in her sleep and shifted, rolling over to face him. Her sleeping face was as sweet as it was when she was awake though softer. He gently brushed a lock of strawberry-colored hair out of her face and then pressed his hand against the soft mattress. 

“A bed,” he murmured. 

Then, he cautiously curled up beside her. The mattress sank and dipped, supporting and cradling his body. Amu shifted, rolling as the mattress moved until she was nearly pressed against Ikuto’s chest. He had to be careful. If she woke up and found him like this, he didn’t want to think about it… But the bed just felt so good against his battered body and Amu’s frame was so warm. Maybe just a few more moments couldn’t possibly hurt, could they?

He relaxed, his fingers ghosting over Amu’s body through the blankets between them. She was so soft and so warm and he still felt ice inside his bones, but he couldn’t stay here like this. He couldn’t sleep in her bed. Though everyone treated him like an unlucky stray cat, he wasn’t one. He was a human boy and he didn’t belong in this girl’s bed. Ikuto moved carefully, sliding off Amu’s mattress and back into the pallet of cushions on the floor. 

She groaned out something resembling his name and he froze. Was she awake?

Then, her hand dropped over the edge of the mattress and found his head. For a moment, her fingers just rested there and he decided that she had been asleep after all and sighed in relief. Then, just as he had grown accustomed to the weight of her fingers, she began to move them. She stroked his hair softly, gently, smoothing the silken strands against his cheeks.

How long had it been since someone had touched him like this? So gently? So wonderfully? 

He lifted his head slightly, pushing a pillow beneath his cheek so he could relax as she continued to pet and stroke his hair. Sleep was so close, lingering tantalizingly close but still just out of reach. Then, he thanked god that sleep hadn’t yet reached him because Amu’s soft voice came through the darkness.

“Ikuto?” she asked.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“If you want… only, if you want… just this once, you could… sleep on the bed with me…”

His heart skipped two beats. The first was throbbing desire—he wanted nothing more than to climb into that bed with her, share her warmth and feel the plush comfort of a mattress beneath his aching body. The second was fear—had she been awake when he was on her bed, invading her space like a pervert while she slept?

“Ikuto?” she whispered when he didn’t immediately respond.

“I…” he murmured. “I would… like that.”

She patted his head. “Come up here, silly.”

Shedding the afghan quilt, Ikuto slipped under the covers that she had lifted for him. The warmth of her lingering body heat immediately engulfed him and pried a sigh of bliss from his lips. The ice finally left his bones and he rested his head on the pillow he had brought with him from the floor. A comfortable amount of space remained between them, but Ikuto could feel the heat of her and feel her breath on his face. Her eyes were closed, but her cheeks were still pink and betrayed her.

“Amu,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

She opened her golden eyes. “Y-you’re welcome.”

“Did you… feel me?”

She nodded, blushing a little more. “I thought that…”

“You don’t have to explain,” he whispered. “Just… thank you… for this…”

Silence stretched between them, but neither was asleep though Ikuto was once again inches from sleep. The mattress was so comfortable and the covers were so warm. Amu’s light breathing was such a comfort and, for the first time in weeks, he felt safe. 

Then, she once again whispered the question he had been dreading. (Even though Yoru had answered her, it seemed she wanted to hear his reasoning.) “Why were you sleeping in that alley? You could have died,” she asked.

Ikuto wished he could feign sleep, but his eyes had snapped open when he heard those dreaded words and found that she was staring right at him. There would be no faking his way out now. He would have to answer if he wanted to stay and right now, he would have rather died than leave the warmth and comfort of her bed.

“I didn’t have anywhere to go,” he confessed softly.

“Nowhere?” Amu whispered as if the very idea of being that completely alone shocked her. 

He shook his head. “Nowhere… I can’t go home and I don’t have friends. I have nowhere.”

Amu stared at him, her golden gaze sad. “Ikuto, will you promise me something?”

He met her eyes, a sharp pain going into his heart. This was it. She had given something to him and now he had to give something to her in return, but what she asked for was nothing cruel or bitter. In fact, it was the best thing he had ever heard.

“Next time you need someplace to go, please, come to me. I’ll help you.”

His throat clenched and he couldn’t find the words to speak just how grateful he was to her for everything. So, as he had before, he embraced her tightly, wrapping her up in his arms and pressing her close to his body. She was so warm and this time, rather than remaining a doll in his embrace, she wrapped her arms around him and held him in return. She tucked her head beneath his chin, sighing softly against his throat. 

This, Ikuto decided, was his every fantasy. 

A comfortable bed and a warm embrace—that was all.

Like an unlucky stray black cat, he wouldn’t ask for more than that.

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

Questions, comments, concerns?

YOU guys ROCK, so REVIEW!


	3. The Unwanted Unlucky Boy

I know I’m calling Ikuto a “stray black cat” way too much and making it repetitive, but black cats are the theme for the story. Themes are repetitive.

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

After the fateful night when Amu found Ikuto sleeping in the freezing alley, they became… something. She wouldn’t call him a friend. A few times, working for the corporation Easter, he had been forced to betray her, but she could always see in his deep wine-dark eyes that he didn’t want to. She couldn’t call him an enemy either though. Despite his ties to Easter, if she needed him, he came to her aid even if it meant he’d get it from his step-father later. He was more than a friend since when he happened to need a place to stay, he always slept in her bed close enough that they were entwined together in something close to a lover’s embrace. Yet he wasn’t her boyfriend because they had never shared more than embraces and blankets. Honestly, Amu didn’t know what Ikuto was to her.

Since that night, he didn’t stay over very often. He was a black alley cat and often ferreted out a place for himself to spend the night though she didn’t know where. Amu suspected he didn’t want to wear out his welcome because he always looked nervous when he appeared at her window, begging entrance, as if she might turn him away. Though she never did. Only one night did he ever appear with regularity at the window—the night her parents went out to their adults-only dinner and Ami was with the sitter. Amu was always certain not to make plans and Ikuto always appeared in the darkness outside the window at eight o’clock, give or take a few minutes. It was their ritual, their night, just for them.

On one such night, Ikuto appeared at the window as silently as a breeze and quietly slid the window open, slipping into Amu’s warm bedroom with a shiver of pleasure. Amu was sitting up at her desk, head propped up on her hand, dozing. In their basket in the windowsill, Amu’s guardians were sleeping and Ikuto tucked Yoru’s egg in with them. Even the little guardians understood that this night was only for Ikuto and Amu—mainly Ikuto. It was the only time he felt like a human instead of an unwanted stray.

He was loathe to wake Amu so he gathered her up in his arms and carried her to her bed. Her body was so soft and warm, melting in his embrace against his chest. She made a soft sound and turned her face into his shirt, breathing in the scent of his skin deeply. Ikuto flushed, pleased that she seemed to like his presence. In sleep, she was completely honest.

Amu woke in his arms halfway to her bed, her golden eyes fluttering open and then a smile curving her soft pink lips. “Ikuto,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I was so tired.”

“I could tell. Were you exhausted by your thoughts of me?” he teased her.

She blushed. “P-put me down, you perverted cat-boy.”

He could feel the change in his blood, urging his cat ears to perk up on the top of his head. Amu chuckled and he tossed her down rudely on the bed with a snort, ears flicking cutely on the top of his head as he tried to will them away. Amu giggled at him again and then reached out her arms for him.

“Come here,” she whispered.

Ikuto couldn’t resist those open arms. He toed off his heavy combat boots, shrugged out of his jacket, and crawled into the bed beside her. Amu wrapped her arms around him, her hands pressing to his back and rubbing gently. Ikuto cradled her in return, his fingers finding the patch of bare skin between the top of her pajama bottoms and the bottom of her tank top. He stroked that strip of warm bare skin, sending shivers through Amu’s body. Deciding that he needed to be teased in return, she slid her fingers up his back and threaded them through his night-dark hair. Then, she found his cat ears and stroked them. They were so soft, like velvet, and flicked about in her fingers. A sound not unlike a purr escaped Ikuto, his throat and chest vibrating.

She giggled. “You really are like a big kitty!” she said cheerfully. “A big black cat!”

Ikuto yanked himself from her embrace, his sudden movement making her grip painfully yank on his sensitive ears before she let go. He got out of the bed immediately and sat down on the edge of it with his back to her, trembling. Those ears swiveled and twisted on the top of his head, his tail lashing.

“Ikuto?” Amu asked, moving behind him. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

Without a word, he got to his feet, grabbed his jacket and shoes without putting either on, and made his way to the window. He picked up Yoru from the basket of other eggs and that was when Amu realized he was leaving.

“Wait!” 

She lunged for him, managing to grab him by the belt of his jeans, and yanked him back firmly. He lost his footing and they tumbled down in a heap on the cushions on her floor. Ikuto had broken their fall, one hand cupping the back of her head and the other supporting his weight so he wouldn’t crush her. Once he was certain she was alright, he moved towards the window again. This time, Amu wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist and kept him pressed against her on the floor.

“Amu, let me go!” he growled out.

“No,” she said, undaunted. “Tell me why you’re leaving!”

“I have to!” he snapped, but she didn’t hear any anger in his voice. He was only sad.

“Why?” Amu asked, still clinging to his lithe catlike body. “Why, Ikuto?”

“Because… because…” 

He pried at her hands, wasn’t able to shake her grip, and tried to wriggle his hips out from between her legs. When that too proved useless, he resigned himself to what was going to happen. His dream, his fantasy, his wish—it was about to be shattered inside him again. He had thought that with Amu, it would be different, but…

“Because!” he snapped, exasperated, unwilling to speak those words. “Let me go, Amu!”

She hung on tighter. “No. Not until you tell me.”

“I… I…” Ikuto stared into her face, into those honest golden eyes, and then turned to look around her bedroom. His gaze strayed to her bed, lingered on the glass of water on her nightstand, and then made their way back to her concerned face. “I can’t stay, Amu,” he said finally, biting into the lemon life had given him. “I’m… the black cat of misfortune. If I stay long enough, something bad will… happen to you. And I don’t… I don’t want that.”

“The black cat of misfortune?” she repeated, her grip loosening.

Ikuto tried to escape again, but she wouldn’t let him go.

“Who told you that?” she asked, her voice cracking.

He wouldn’t look at her. “Step-father,” he hissed. That ugly defenseless worthless feeling welled up in his chest.

“He was wrong,” Amu said sharply. “You’re not a cat, Ikuto.”

He met her eyes, his traitorous ears drooping. “You just said…”

She hugged him tighter. “But you’re not a cat, Ikuto. You’re a human.”

“I’m a stray,” he told her flatly. “I don’t have a home or even a bed of my own. I take what I can from people to survive, but I’m still on my own.”

Amu shook her head. “No, you’re not a stray cat, Ikuto. And even if you were, you’re not anymore. You’re my kitty now,” she whispered.

Then, on what was purely an impulse, she lifted her chin and kissed him on the cheek. It wasn’t lingering, just a quick peck, but Amu could still taste the texture of his skin and she knew he had felt her lips wholly. Stunned, he just stared at her, one hand lifting to his cheek. Amu still didn’t let him go, even as a flaming blush devoured her face and burned her skin. 

“Ikuto, you’re… you’re not a stray cat. You’re not a bad omen either. And even if you were, I wouldn’t care. You’re… just a boy,” she whispered.

“Just a boy?” he repeated.

She blushed hotter. “Well, not just…”

He smiled and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with such tenderness that she felt as if her body was made out of glass. He cradled her, worshipping her and—dare she think it—loving her. Gently, his lips eased and encouraged her own to respond until she was putty in his hands. When his hot tongue touched the seam of her lips, she opened her mouth with a gasp and allowed him in. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer, her legs still wrapped around his hips. 

Ikuto deepened the kiss, tormenting her with soft feather-light touches along her sides and collarbones. She arched against him, small body writhing, and then grasped his ears in her fingers. He had told her once that his ears were his weakness, even when he was human. His ears were erotic and she tormented and teased him now, rubbing and stroking the soft appendages until that delicious purr-like moan of pleasure escaped his lips.

She continued to rub, trying to get that sound out of him again—still kissing him, her legs still around his waist.

Suddenly, Ikuto grabbed her hands and pulled them away, panting. “You… you’ve got to stop that,” he gasped. 

She giggled, reaching for his ears again. They were quivering, looking so cute and neglected. “Why?” she asked.

Seriously, he met her eyes. “Because if you don’t, I’ll want to do something you’re not ready for,” he said softly.

“What?” 

She had asked so innocently that it only proved his point. She wasn’t ready, not yet, maybe not even ever, not for him. Even if he wasn’t the unfortunate black cat to her, he wasn’t even sure she really cared for him in the right way. Maybe they were just good friends, people with that particular closeness that lovers shared even if they weren’t lovers.

“This,” he murmured, blushing, and pressed his hardness against her heated core.

She glanced down, realized, and tore her eyes back to Ikuto’s face. Her cheeks flamed bright red. “I… I… I…”

He pecked her lips gently. “It’s not your fault, even though I told you my ears were my weakness.”

“I thought you might have been… exaggerating,” she said, looking away from his airbrushed face, “or teasing me.”

“I wasn’t,” Ikuto said gently and tried to detangle himself from her arms and legs.

“Wait!” she said again, tightening her grip on him. “You’re not… going to leave, are you?”

He glanced at the dark coldness beyond the window and then back to her face. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked instead of answering.

Her grip on him loosened, a smile curving her lips. “Yes. I do,” she said.

“Then, for you, I’ll stay,” he whispered and dipped his head to brush their noses together.

She smiled more.

Ikuto gathered her up in his arms again and carried her to the bed. First, he tucked her beneath the covers and then bustled around her room, fixing his strewn jacket and boots and putting Yoru’s egg back in the basket with the others, aware that Amu was watching him closely for signs of impending escape.

He sighed. “I’m not going to leave.”

She simply patted the space on the mattress beside her. “Ikuto,” she whispered.

He came to her side and slipped beneath the covers, automatically reaching to cradle her small body to his chest. He clung to her, feeling her hands move to stroke his hair habitually. Like that, entwined like would-be lovers, Ikuto slept his first deep dreamless sleep of the month. For once, he had no nightmares of being turned from a warm door as a scorned stray or an unfortunate black cat. He knew that if he ever needed someone, Amu was here for him and she accepted all of him—even the parts he didn’t want to accept himself.

…

In the morning, Ikuto left. Amu watching him as he laced up his heavy boots and shrugged into his not-nearly-warm-enough jacket, gathering Yoru up under his chin while he readied himself. Then, he moved to the window, but his long-fingered hand hesitated on the latch.

“Ikuto,” she said softly from her perch on the bed, still nestled in the lingering warmth his body had left beneath the covers.

He turned back, sapphire eyes seeming to memorize the sight of her in the bed, pillows and blankets and glass of water on the nightstand. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help it. He returned to the bed, enveloped her in his arms, and kissed her cheek softly. A small gasp escaped her petal-pink lips, but her arms came up around his back out of reflex, holding him. Again, gently, he kissed her lips but she didn’t immediately melt into the kiss as she had the night before.

“Please,” he whispered. “Spoil me a little.”

She immediately threaded her fingers through his night-dark hair and pulled him close, tugging him closer and closer until he felt as if she wanted to live inside his skin. He would have loved to oblige her, to be with her always, but… Easter would be looking for him. He had to go, he couldn’t stay.

“Amu,” he whispered and broke the kiss.

She was flushed, breathing hard, her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink and her eyes glowing.

“I have to go,” he murmured.

Her fingers tightened in his shirt. “Do you… have to? It’s Sunday.”

He nodded. “I do. I’m sorry.”

She looked down at her hands fisted in his shirt and pried them loose with great effort. Then, she smoothed the fabric against his chest, watching the shudder as her touch went through him. “Alright,” she said finally. “I understand. You’ll come back, won’t you?”

“Anytime I need a safe haven,” he assured her.

She nodded and gave him a little push away. He bumped against her nightstand with his long legs, his body too long and tall for the small space between the bed and the nightstand where he had been wedged. The glass of water wavered and them toppled, shattering on the floor with a crash. For a moment, they both just stared at it, shocked.   
Then, Amu’s mother’s voice rang through the hallway outside the door. “Amu-chan? Are you alright? What was that crash?”

Amu frantically gestured to Ikuto—‘Do something! Get in the closet. Get under the bed. Hide, leave, something, anything!’ He darted to the window, slipped out gracefully, closed it behind him, and was gone into the early morning.

Not a moment later, Amu’s mother opened the door to find her daughter looking at the broken glass on the floor. “Ah, what happened, Amu-chan?”

“Nothing, Mom,” Amu said with a smile. “Just a little bad luck.”

Outside the window, tucked safely out of sight, Ikuto’s heart broke just a little. Was that what she really thought? With him came a little bad luck? The black cat of misfortune crossed his path again and it happened too often for the bad luck to not be living inside him. He knew he was the bad luck, the black cat, the stray, but he hadn’t really known Amu thought that. He had believed her pretty words, her pretty lies, and even now… he still wanted to believe them. 

The best part of the word ‘believe’ is the word ‘lie’ right inside it.

…

For a while now, Ikuto had been unable to bear going to the place he was supposed to think of as home—where his step-father and little sister lived. He spent that one night a month at Amu’s, nestled in her bed with her, feeling like he belonged. But the rest of the time, it was too cold to sleep on the streets as he usually did. So, he had found a church run by a kind nun and made himself a regular resident, sleeping curled up in the padded pews at night. It wasn’t a bed and it wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was warm. Now, he returned there, watching over his shoulder for Easter.

When he approached, he noticed his violin case was sitting outside the double doors as if waiting for him, but he was certain he had left it inside before leaving for Amu’s the night before. So, why was it outside? He picked up the violin and slung the strap over his shoulder before stepping inside the church. Immediately, the scent of death and flowers assaulted his sensitive nose and he understood why his violin had been waiting for him outside.

The black cat of misfortune had struck again!

A funeral was taking place inside…

Someone was dead…

“Stop, you!” someone shouted at him, but Ikuto merely turned to leave the church. A young girl, maybe Amu’s age, dressed all in mourning black stepped between him and the door. Gently, he put his hand on her shoulder and tried to push her out of his way. She held her ground, glaring into his face with eyes filled with tears. “You’re… a… a… You’re the Devil!” she screamed at him. Then, she rose up onto the tips of her toes and managed to slap him across the face. Her blow wasn’t enough to cause him pain, but he winced anyway—not at the blow, but at the words the accompanied it. “He’s dead! It’s your fault! I heard you were bad luck!”

Ikuto stepped past her and out of the lovely little church. Outside, the elderly nun who ran it—the same woman who had welcomed him at first—was standing with her hands folded as if in prayer.

“Oh, Ikuto,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry,” he said to her. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again. “But I think that would be best.”

He tried to give her a smile, a smile that said no-hard-feelings, but it came out as strained and hurt as he felt inside. Instead, he asked, “What happened?”

“A black cat crossed his path on the way to mass, he told his daughter about it, and then he died,” the nun told Ikuto gingerly. “Everyone knows about you, knows that you stay here. I’m sorry, but it would be best if you leave and…” her voice cracked. “Don’t come back, Ikuto.”

He nodded and walked away with only his violin as his single possession. He had heard these words before, but it didn’t prevent them from cutting into him deeper and deeper each time. He was the black cat of misfortune and it was best that he go. Too many times had he been hurt, too many times had his heart been bashed in, too many times had his dreams and hopes been shattered like glass stars, too many times had he been turned out like the unlucky stray black cat that he was. It was time to go back outside, back into the cold, back to sleeping in the alleys. 

Even to Amu, he was at least a little bad luck. He wouldn’t risk his misfortune costing her something terrible—her life, her health, her home, her friends… He was the black cat and it was best if he left and never came back so leave he did, vanishing into the alleys of the city like a stray cat. 

…

It was Saturday night, their Saturday night, the night Amu’s parents went out to dinner and Ami was with the sitter. Amu was sitting on her bed, reading, waiting for Ikuto. The window was unlocked, but closed because it was still winter beyond the glass. She glanced at the clock, wondering what was keeping him. 

It was nearly fifteen minutes after eight. Ikuto was usually here by now, curled up on her bed beside her like a contented house cat, letting her stroke his hair without touching his erotic ears. Amu closed her book and went to the window. She opened it slightly and whispered his name into the night, but he did not appear.

By ten o’clock, Amu had fallen asleep, tears dried on her cheeks, and Ikuto still hadn’t come.

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

I love this chapter. It’s so sad though…

Questions, comments, concerns?


	4. The Return to Two Places

I feel like the theme song for this chapter is Michelle Branch’s “All You Wanted.” It fits Ikuto very well with all that aside. Check it out!

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

Months passed with no sign of Tsukiyomi Ikuto. He didn’t come to spend the night at Amu’s on the Saturday night when her parents were out. There was one bad snowstorm and he didn’t come then either, seeking safe haven from the cold. When Amu and the other School Guardians went to fight Easter, Ikuto wasn’t there in any shape or form—enemy or ally. He had vanished without a trace, completely and wholly. 

Amu began to fear that maybe… he was dead…

Now, it was Saturday night. Her parents had gone out to their monthly dinner and little Ami was with the sitter. Amu was home alone, hoping against hope that she would hear that soft rap on her window that was Ikuto pleading to be let in like a stray kitten. But, eight o’clock came and went once again without his appearance. Amu lay face down on her bed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Where could he be? 

What could have happened?

He couldn’t really be… dead, could he?

There was a sound at the window, a cat meowing softly. Amu jolted up in bed and whirled to face the window, praying that it was Ikuto, but it wasn’t. It was close enough though. On the other side of the glass was Yoru, Ikuto’s little guardian. The little creature looked worse for the wear. Usually, Yoru floated about even while he was sleeping, but now he looked barely able to stand. His dark hair was wild, his golden eyes dark, and his little face exhausted.

Amu tore open the window and he fell into her cupped palms. She cradled him against her chest, alarmed by how cold his little body was. Swiftly, she did what she could to warm him and then got him a dried sardine from the cupboard downstairs. Surprisingly, Yoru pushed it away. 

“Amu-chan, you have to… have to help, nya…” the little guardian whispered.

“What is it? What happened?” Amu asked, fearing the worst.

“Ikuto… Ikuto went home, nya.”

“Home?” she repeated.

Yoru nodded, burrowing deeper into her palms. “But… we shouldn’t have, nya…”

“Where is he?” Amu demanded. 

Yoru’s eyes fluttered and he pried them open. “It’s cold, Amu,” the little guardian whispered and the voice that came out of his lips was Ikuto’s. “I’m cold…”

Panic speared through Amu’s heart. She immediately raced downstairs, stuffed herself into her woolen pea coat, shoved her hands into gloves, yanked on her hat, wound up her scarf, and shoved her feet into her warm boots. Then, she tucked Yoru inside her shirt as she had often seen Ikuto do and raced outside into the cold. She cupped her hand over Yoru, panting, “Tell me where he is, Yoru. Where is Ikuto?”

The little creature only shivered.

Amu cursed, running harder. Desperately, she returned to the alley where she had first found Ikuto sleeping in the cold, but it was deserted. There was no sign of him. 

“Where are you?” she shouted, voice echoing in the night. “Ikuto!”

As if in response, a cat yowled somewhere.

Amu whirled around, her eyes scanning for the black cat that guided her to Ikuto once before. Against her chest, Yoru trembled. Amu spotted the black cat, sitting patiently in the middle of the sidewalk, watching her with its golden eyes. Again, it mewled mournfully, turned, and began trotting off.

“Wait!” Amu shouted, not bothering to feel stupid for talking to a cat. Quickly, she followed the cat down the sidewalk, running in her haste, and realized that the cat was leading her back towards her house. Had Ikuto gone to her house after all? But then why had Yoru shown up without him, half-frozen? “Wait!”

The cat turned the corner and Amu raced after it, turning the corner a moment later, but the cat had vanished without a trace. A cold wind gusted down, howling through the trees. The cat was gone and there was still no sign of Ikuto. 

“Ikuto!” Amu shouted again, pressing her hand over Yoru, assuring herself that he was still there. “Ikuto!”

Again, the cat yowled somewhere, its voice carrying on the wind so that Amu had no idea where the sound had come from. Tears burned in her eyes and throat, choking her, and the first tear practically froze on her cheek. Where was Ikuto? Where was the guiding black cat? “Please,” she sobbed, clutching Yoru. “Please… where are you? Where are you?”

The black cat yowled in the silence, its human-like voice bouncing off the buildings and carried on the wind. It told Amu nothing. 

She collapsed to her knees, a sob caught in her throat. “Please, Ikuto,” she whispered. “Where are you? Tell me. I can’t find you and I don’t want you to die… I don’t want… Please, I…” her voice broke, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. “Please, I love you.”

…

Earlier that night, Ikuto had returned to the one place he shouldn’t have gone to escape the freezing winter night. He should have known his step-father would be angry with him. He should have known Utau wouldn’t have been able to help him. He should have known it wasn’t safe. He should have known… 

He had been burned so many times, but…

He was always willing to try one more time. He was always willing to give one more chance, to risk it one more time for something he desperately foolishly wanted—the chance of a kind word, a kind touch, sleeping in his bed, seeing his little sister, playing his precious violin… He was always willing to try again.

He should have remembered that he was the black cat of misfortune. 

Shivering with cold, he let himself into the house his step-father and little sister shared. Yoru peeked out from inside his shirt and Ikuto knew the little guardian was nervous, expressing the emotions Ikuto couldn’t. It had been a long time since he had come to this house, come to the place he should have considered (and still considered in some distant broken part of his mind) home. The place was quiet save the sound of Utau’s soft singing. It didn’t sound like his step-father was here.

Setting down his violin on the side table, Ikuto made his way to his little sister’s bedroom. He knocked lightly and opened the door, peering in at her. She was wearing headphones, her blonde hair loose and flowing down her back, clad in a soft lavender nightgown and barefoot. She was sitting on her bed, back to him, papers and pencils spread everywhere as a sure sign that she was writing a new song. It was so good to see her, safe and well, that Ikuto’s throat clenched with sadness. 

He came up behind her, knelt on the bed, and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She gasped, her hands immediately covering his. “Ikuto! You’re back! You’re here!”

He pressed his face into the back of her neck, inhaling the scent that she shared with his mother. “I am,” he murmured. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course!” Utau untangled his arms from her shoulders and turned to embrace him fully in return. Her small body shook and trembled with the emotion of sobs as she clung to her older brother.

It felt good to hold her, to smell the scent of her hakubaiko (1) perfume that she had taken up wearing after his mother’s death, to feel her arms around him, to finally feel that familial love and connection attaching them. No matter what happened, they would always be siblings—they would always have each other.

Then, suddenly, far too early for his liking, Utau shoved him back. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s freezing out there,” he said by way of explanation.

Utau shook her head. “No, Ikuto! You have to go—now! While Father’s still out!”

Ikuto’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“He’s enraged. You helped those School Guardians fight against him last time, saving that joker. He’s been screaming about it all week, if he comes home and finds you…” Her voice broke off, unable to finish that threat. “You have to go! It’s not safe for you here.” She leaped from her bed, grabbing Ikuto’s hand and quickly leading him out into the hallway towards the front door. 

They had almost reached the door when Utau froze in her tracks, her breath hitching. The doorknob turned, painstakingly slowly as her heart thundered against her ribcage. “No,” Utau breathed. She didn’t have time to hide Ikuto or save him or protect him. When the door swung open, she didn’t have time to try to explain to their step-father what had happened or even get out of the way.

The door swung open and there he was—their step-father, Kazuomi Hoshina.

A moment of stunned frightened silence spread between them. He was a large man, his frame filling the threshold of the front door. Utau had Ikuto bottled up behind her. Her body was too small, thin and slender—incapable of hiding him—wearing that thin silky nightgown was only the icing on the cake. Behind her, his body as thin as a bundle of twigs, Ikuto stood frozen, his blue eyes fastened to their step-father’s face. It was clear they were all stunned, shocked, unsure of what to expect. 

Then, like a bubble popping, Kazuomi leaped towards his two step-children. His large fist tossed Utau away like a doll even as Ikuto tried to pull her from harm’s way. With Utau out of the way, there was nothing between Ikuto and his step-father. 

The blows were sudden and hard, driving the breath from his lungs. 

The first punch caught him in the stomach and he thanked god that he hadn’t eaten or else he would have been sick. The second, as he doubled over to clutch his stomach, was his step-father’s knee driving brutally into his face. Dizzy, Ikuto crashed to the ground and his fragile body was a complete free-for-all. The kicks focused on his abdomen and vulnerable stomach. The punches found his face and head. Then, a knee was pinning his chest down and those fists drove over and over into his face.

Utau was screaming, begging, pleading, bargaining, doing anything she could to try to stop their step-father.

But the beating went on and on until Ikuto was barely aware of anything else. He had thought his step-father would wear out, grow tired of hitting him, and leave. But the man’s rage was beyond anything Ikuto had imagined. If he didn’t get away, Kazuomi was going to beat him to death. As this point, Ikuto was too weak, too beaten, too broken, to fight back. He had stopped shielding his body, using his hands and arms to protect Yoru where the little guardian was tucked inside his shirt above his sternum. 

This was the end, he realized. His unlucky life would be over.

Then, as luck would have it, Utau reached her breaking point. She could bear to watch any longer and she didn’t care if she caught a few blows. She had to help Ikuto. He was all she had left in this world! She threw herself at their step-father, shrieking wildly like some feral animal, and tore at him with her nails. He stumbled back from Ikuto, rising to his full height to overpower Utau, but she pulled her dirty trick and drove her knee into his crotch.

While he was doubled over, gasping for breath, Utau grabbed Ikuto by his shirt and heaved him to his feet. He staggered, blood dripping on the top of her head. Utau glanced at their step-father, still panting and gasping with his nuts inside his ribcage, and ushered Ikuto outside into the cold night. She tucked him into the shadowed safety of an alley and then started running in the opposite direction. She heard her step-father explode from the house behind her, look left and then right, and she felt his eyes find her.

‘Follow me, you bastard,’ she thought. ‘Chase after me.’

A moment later, she heard his footsteps roaring after her and focused only on keeping ahead of him. She had to give Ikuto time to pull himself together, to get to his feet, and leave the area. So, Utau kept running. She ran until her legs couldn’t run anymore and she collapsed to her knees on the cold concrete, shuddering with exhaustion. Kazuomi was a few steps behind her and caught her easily. He gave her a few slaps, but it was nothing compared to the beating she had just watched her brother endure. 

Tears sprang in Utau’s eyes, but they weren’t for herself or her pain. They were for Ikuto. He had finally come home and their step-father had tried to destroy him. Why did this keep happening to Ikuto? He was so kind, so soft, so sweet. She had seen him hurt himself, crush his own heart, over and over to protect someone he cared about. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved so much better, but bad luck spit in his face over and over and over again.

…

Yoru shuddered, cupped in Amu’s palms as she desperately tried to get him to tell her where Ikuto was. “Please, Yoru, talk to me!” she begged. “Where is Ikuto?” But the little guardian was silent. He was growing weaker and weaker, his eyes sliding closed, his breathing labored. Amu knew he was dying and, somewhere, so was Ikuto. She screamed his name, hysteria gripping her heart in a vice. 

Then, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and whipped her head in the direction to look, praying it was the black cat returning to guide her to Ikuto. But it was even better than that. Staggering from the alley, his face bloody and his eyes closed as if sheer willpower was the only thing animating him, was Ikuto.

Amu stuffed Yoru into her pocket and raced to her friend’s side, pulling his arm over her shoulders and helping support him. His body was beaten and bloody, but strong. He was hardly leaning on her at all. He didn’t seem close to death. Then, why… why was Yoru so weak? 

“Ikuto,” Amu whispered, tugging him forward out of the alley and towards her house where it was warm and safe. He had been beaten and she couldn’t risk whoever had done that to him finding them and finishing the job. “Ikuto, come on.”

Like a puppet on strings, he followed her, staggering occasionally and nearly falling a few times. Amu reached her house, unlocked the door, and ushered him inside. Her parents were still out, thank god, and she spotted the clock on the wall. It was barely nine-thirty so she had plenty of time before they returned. Perfect. 

She brought Ikuto to the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet, pulling the first aid kit from beneath the sink. Sweating, she quickly stripped off her winter clothes and cradled Yoru in her hands. If possible, he seemed even weaker. Sitting before her, Ikuto’s face was blank and pale, but he was breathing alright and his pulse was strong. If he wasn’t dying, then why was Yoru like this?

“Ikuto,” she whispered. 

He didn’t respond.

“I’m going to clean you up, alright?”

He remained silent.

Amu sucked in a breath to steady herself and began to undress Ikuto, blushing. She started with his boots and made sure his toes weren’t frostbitten. They weren’t so he must not have been out in the cold that long. Next, she peeled off his black shirt, the blood sticking and opening a few small wounds that had closed against the dark material. Someone had beaten him badly, but his expression didn’t change, even as she watched his face. 

She pulled out the hydrogen peroxide, cotton balls, and the box of Band-Aids. She started with his face which seemed to have taken the most abuse. His cheeks were cut, his nose bleeding, his lower lip split, and his left eye was slowly beginning to blacken and swell. Amu dabbed the injuries with peroxide, but still Ikuto’s face remained blank as a doll’s. She applied some Band-Aids to the worst cuts on his cheeks, chin, and forehead and got an ice pack for his eye, urging him to hold it there. He did, still staring beyond her head.

Amu moved to his chest, trying not to admire the lithe planes of ivory skin and defined muscles. There was large bruises and welts peppering most of his torso and back. A single deep gash marked his collarbone and the bone beneath seemed crooked, but when Amu prodded it, it didn’t seem broken. Maybe it was an old break? She dabbed the gash on his collarbone and plastered a few Band-Aids over it. There wasn’t much she could do for the welts and bruises on him.

She hesitated at his pants, biting her lip, but couldn’t work up the courage. Instead, she looked for blood from the outside of his jeans and found that his knees were skinned hideously and bruised badly. He must have fallen. She tried to roll up his jeans, but they hugged his legs too tightly. She had no choice but to take them off him. She urged him to stand up and pulled down his jeans, praying he was wearing underwear. (He was, cute black boxers decorated with musical notes.) He allowed her to move him like a doll with no will of his own.

She cleaned and bandaged his knees. Then, taking a warm wet cloth, she cleaned the blood from his night-dark hair as best she could, searching for injuries in his scalp. With that, she was finished. He appeared alright. None of his injuries were life threatening, but still… he was just sitting there, frozen, staring straight ahead. 

“Ikuto,” she whispered again.

He didn’t respond.

Deliriously, Yoru whispered, “Unfortunate black cat…”

That was it! Amu realized with a jolt. Ikuto’s body was alright, but his heart—his personality represented by Yoru—was dying. Even knowing that though, she still had no idea how to save him. Gingerly, she cupped his injured face and whispered his name, but he didn’t even move. Timidly, she pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Ikuto, please,” she whispered. “You’re not a black cat. You’re not bad luck.”

He didn’t respond. 

“Ikuto,” she whispered, tears choking her voice. “Did you know that… in some places, people believe that black cats are good luck?”

He blinked suddenly, his blue eyes seeming to clear.

“Yeah,” Amu continued, her voice breaking. “They’re the messengers of the Egyptian goddess, Bast. They’re even worshipped, hosted in houses to gain her favor.”

Yoru sucked in a sudden breath, his golden eyes opening.

Tears burned in Amu’s own eyes. “Yeah,” she breathed. “And on ships, black cats are good luck. Wives would keep them at home to protect their husbands at sea.”

Ikuto’s eyes moved to meet hers and he really saw her.

Amu hiccupped, choking back a sob. “See, Ikuto? Black cats… can be good luck. (2) It just depends on who you talk to.”

His lips curved into a faint smile and then he reached out to her. Amu fell into his arms, kneeling between his parted legs since he was still sitting, and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. She started crying and just couldn’t stop. She had been so afraid for him, terrified that she would never see him again, afraid that the Ikuto she knew and had come to love would be gone forever. He hugged her closer, breathing deeply. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought it would be best if I… left and… didn’t come back.”

She shook her head, sobbing.

“Everyone’s always saying how I’m the… black cat of misfortune… I just…”

She tightened her grip on him. “You’re not,” she whispered. “You’re not.”

Ikuto held her tighter, stroking her hair. Amu continued to sob into him, clinging to his desperately, as if he would vanish the moment she let go. But he found that he didn’t want her to let go. He wanted to be held by her, to be comforted by her, to be like this… His fantasy of simply sleeping in a warm bed had faded. Now, he wished that Amu would love him. He wished that she loved him with all her heart. He didn’t know that she already did.

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

(1) Hakubaiko is the scent of plum blossoms. I stole it from Rurouni Kenshin since I’ve been reading that lately. (It’s the perfume Kenshin’s wife, Tomoe, wore.)

(2) Black cats are considered good luck in some places, just like and how I said.

Questions, comments, concerns?

Come on… You know you want to… REVIEW!


	5. The Luckiest Boy

And you sillies that review saying “please respond,” but don’t log in or write your penname… how am I supposed to respond? You might know who you are, but I don’t.

This shall be the LAST CHAPTER. (Hard to believe this started out as a one-shot… Jeez. Can I keep it under control next time, please?)

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

In the time that followed Ikuto stopped hiding himself and his feelings from Amu. He spent a lot of nights cuddled up with her in her bed, just enjoying being held and petted and spoiled a little bit. He actually felt like he belonged with her, but… there was still something he wished for—her love.

He wasn’t sure exactly what they were to each other. 

They slept together in her bed, cuddled closer than most lovers, and they shared heated passionate kisses in the dark of the night. A few times, he had slipped his hands beneath her shirt to feel the soft skin of her stomach and back, but he had never made a move to touch her sexually. She, in return, had slid her hands beneath his shirt and explored the ridges of muscles and scars on his pale chest.

She stroked and toyed with his ears, pressed close in his lap so that he knew she could feel his arousal as she sweetly tormented him. He sometimes fastened his lips to her throat and collarbones, kissing her wrists and fingertips. Once or twice, he had even drawn her fingers into his mouth, lavishing attention on her sensitive skin. 

In turn, they tormented each other, each knowing the other’s weakness. Her fingers on his cat ears were one thing, her mouth on his human earlobe was completely another. He did the same to her, expertly teasing her until she was squirming and panting in his lap. In those moments, they were each aware of what a small step it would be to just make love, but they never made that extra step. 

Afterwards, each heated and uncomfortable, they cuddled together, sharing kisses that only made it worse.

Ikuto didn’t know what they were—not quite lovers, but more than friends. Besides, who on earth behaved that way? People were usually one or the other, not both and they were… somewhere in the grey area between both.

But he couldn’t go on like this. He needed to know!

He needed to either be accepted by her wholly and completely or else pushed back over the line in the sand that made him only a friend. He could live in this area of both, unsure what was too far and what was not enough.

…

Now, it was dark in Amu’s room and her parents were out and Ami was with the sitter. They were alone, had the house to themselves, and nestled snuggly in her warm bed. 

Ikuto’s mouth was hot, wanting, his tongue deftly tangling with her own. His arms were around her back, beneath her shirt, bare fingers teasing against her soft skin. Her limbs felt like pudding, hardly able to put the strength behind them to pull him closer as she tried to deepen the kiss. 

His knee was between her legs, gently brushing her warm core each time he moved a little bit and prying a gasp from her mouth. The kiss was hotter, wetter, deeper, and Amu could feel just how much he cared for her hardening against her belly. Experimentally, she reached down to run her hand over the hard bulge.

Ikuto hissed, immediately breaking the kiss and catching her hand. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Did I hurt you?” she whispered.

“Far from it,” he said with a small laugh. “If you touch me like that, I’ll want to…” He didn’t say the word, but her blush was a sign that she knew what he meant.

Ikuto kissed her again, letting his mouth travel from her lips to her ear where he breathed hotly against the shell before nipping lightly with his teeth. Amu shivered, bliss wrapping around her as she clutched his lean body closer and threaded her fingers through his dark hair. Then, suddenly, a soft moan escaped her.

He pried his face away and stared into her face, smirking. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

She flushed, but he clearly knew the answer. 

He lowered his lips, kissing her again, softly, tenderly, carefully, soothing the embarrassment she felt. Then, the heat throbbed between them again. The kiss was deeper and Amu brought her own mouth to his ear, sucking and nipping and breathing hotly into his ear so that he shuddered and trembled against her. His knee was between her legs, rubbing slightly, and she moaned again, right into his ear. Against her thigh, she could feel his arousal. 

It was so close, it was right there, but…

Ikuto broke away. “We should stop,” he said, ever cautious and careful with her.

“But,” she whispered. “I don’t want to.”

He sighed. “Remember what I said?”

She blushed. “You think I’m not ready for what you want to do.”

Sternly, he asked, “Are you?”

She glanced up and met his eyes. “Ikuto, I…” 

His eyes widened, his heart skipping beats.

“I love—” she cut herself off, turning her face into the pillow. “Nothing. Never mind.”

But he couldn’t let it go. He had to know. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her back. “No, say it. What were you going to say?”

She blushed, her cheeks flaming with innocent embarrassment. “I… I can’t…”

“You were going to say,” he swallowed, “that you loved me, weren’t you?”

She looked away, but nodded. “Yeah.”

“You do?”

She nodded unable to speak.

He caught her chin and kissed her lips gently. “Then say it, please. I want to hear you say it.”

She hesitated.

“Please,” he begged, kissing the corner of her lips. “Please.” His voice was so soft, right on the border of breaking, that she didn’t have the heart to deny him. 

Steeling herself and feeling her ears burn with embarrassment, Amu whispered, “I… I love you, Ikuto.”

His response was immediate. He kissed her and hugged her so close that she felt as if he was going to pull her inside his skin. Then, she felt the wetness on their lips and forced herself back to look into his face. In the darkness, his cheeks shone and his eyes glistened. She gently brushed her thumbs beneath his eyes.

“Ikuto, you’re…”

He glanced away. “I know it’s not… really… manly, but I just… You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear those words,” he confessed.

Amu embraced him tightly. “I love you,” she whispered again, far less embarrassed. 

He kissed her, the salt still on his lips, and Amu felt her tears mix with his. This sweet boy… He had been beaten down and crushed, called misfortune and a stray, abandoned and misunderstood for so long. She couldn’t imagine the relief he felt as knowing someone not only cared for him, but loved him for all that he was. She held him tightly and kept kissing him long after both their tears had dried.

…

The night of their confession, Ikuto and Amu hadn’t gone farther than kissing, but since then it had become harder and harder to resist making that final step. She was only twelve and he was seventeen, (it was practically scandalous) but she found that she didn’t care. She loved Ikuto and he loved her—this wasn’t something that was going to end, even at their young ages. She wanted to be with him and he would be gentle. It was something they both desperately wanted, to take that final step and complete each other. 

Unspoken, they made plans, blushing. It was decided that on the night Amu’s parents went out and Ami was with the sitter, Ikuto would come as he always did, but this time… they would consummate their relationship. 

On that night, Amu waited, blushing and barely breathing, for Ikuto to arrive. She didn’t have anything sexy to wear and she hardly even needed a bra so she chose to wear her usual pajamas and sat on the bed, reading while she waited though she could hardly remember anything she read. Her palms were sweaty and her blush just wouldn’t fade. Then, finally, Ikuto appeared at the partially open window. Winter had ended, but it wasn’t quite summer yet.

He touched down on her floor, rolling Yoru into the basket with her eggs. “Hey,” he said and she was happy to hear a touch of nervousness in his voice along with a slight flush on his usually pale face.

“Hi,” she said in return, watching as he toed off his boots and removed his jacket. Then, he glanced at her, waiting for her approval, and she opened her arms. Immediately, he came into them, burying his face in the side of her neck and breathing deeply. She giggled, stroking his soft night-colored hair.

The nervous embarrassment only lasted a moment once they were in each other’s arms. Soon, they were kissing and entwined together on her bed. Habitually, Amu had wrapped her legs around his thin waist and she could feel his eagerness against her core. She shifted her hips experimentally and he rubbed against her, thrusting lightly. A soft sound escaped her. 

It felt so good.

“Ikuto,” she whispered, but it came out more like a moan. 

His mouth burned a path to her ear, purring deep in his chest as her fingers found his cat ears. While his mouth devoured her, he slipped his hands beneath her shirt and hesitated. Amu took his hands and lifted them, guiding them to her small breasts by way of permission. He needed no more guidance after that, his age taking over. His thumbs brushed her nipples, making her cry out and arch against his hands. 

Breathlessly, she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his lips back to her own. Ikuto unbuttoned her pajama top and nudged it open, baring her flesh, kissing a path down her throat to her breasts. Amu blushed clear to her navel, covering herself with her hands. Ikuto stopped his advances, looking up at her gently.

“If you don’t want to, if you’ve changed your mind, we can stop,” he told her. 

She shook her head. “I’m just… embarrassed. I don’t… have much.”

Ikuto kissed her lips tenderly. “Not to be cliché or anything, Amu, but you’re beautiful.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thanks.”

He kissed her again and then slipped her hands away from her chest. He laced their fingers together, holding her hands as he kissed her chest and gently flicked his tongue over her nipple. She moaned his name softly, writhing against his lean body.

After a long moment, he released her hands and brought them to his chest, slipping them beneath his shirt so she could feel the heat of his skin. Her fingertips gently brushed over his nipples and a soft pleasurable tremble went through him.

She gently explored his chest and then he helped her peel off his dark shirt. His chest was marked with a few scars and fading bruises, but the muscles were lean and his skin was like pale cream. Softly, she feathered her lips against his soft skin until goose bumps rose up.

He ran his hands down her sides and gently pulled down her pajama bottoms, leaving her in her panties. His knee slipped between her thighs and rubbed gently so that she arched and moaned softy against him. Then, he ghosted his hand down her bare chest and gently cupped her through her plain cotton panties. She pressed tightly against him, bare chest to chest, blushing as his thumb found a part of her body that she never knew existed. 

She moaned his name softly and then kissed him so he swallowed the sounds. 

Then, her hands tugged his jeans down, he kicked them off, and gently, experimentally, she touched him through his boxers. He groaned softly, pushing against her warm hand, but he was close. He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her panties and cupped her bare sex, feeling the hot wetness against his palm. He slipped his fingers between her slick folds and was shocked by how wet she was. He stroked her, his thumb teasing her clit until she was gasping his name. 

He tugged down her panties and kicked off his boxers, slipping between her parted legs. Then, he grabbed the condom he had brought with him that was waiting on the nightstand beside her glass of water. He tore the foil with his teeth and rolled it down over himself. Amu was watching him and her eyes widened, desperately meeting his soft blue eyes. He wondered if she was afraid of the thought of him filling her. He wasn’t above average in size, but her body was young and small.

“If you don’t want to, just tell me to stop,” Ikuto whispered. “Anytime.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. “I want to.”

He kissed her and then gently found her entrance, pushing slowly into her. She winced, her nails raking his naked back, and he stopped, giving her a moment. She was so warm and wet inside, so tight that he could hardly believe it. Amu continued to wince, biting her lower lip, and Ikuto kissed her gently.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked tenderly.

She shook her head. “But it… it hurts a lot.”

“I’ll go slow,” he told her.

She shook her head. “Can you… just put it in… fast and then… wait a minute?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Ikuto kissed her and for a moment, she didn’t respond, to distracted by the pain where they were nearly joined together. After a moment, she responded, kissing him deeply and with hot passion, her fingers threading through his dark hair. Once he felt her relax beneath him, he thrust his hips hard and filled her to the brim, breaking her virgin barrier all in one fell swoop. She let out a stifled scream of pain and yanked on his hair brutally. Hot tears burned in her eyes, a single one escaping down her cheek. The heat and tightness engulfed him and he wished it felt as good for her as it did for him.

Ikuto shushed her, kissing and nipping her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she gasped. “I just… need a minute.”

“I’ll give you as much time as you need.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, smiling through her few tears. 

And Ikuto did wait, supporting himself on his elbows and occasionally leaning down to kiss her. She slowly grew accustomed to the feeling of him inside her, filling her small body to the brim. He was hot and hard, long and deep inside. Finally the pain began to fade and she realized how good he felt. She shifted her hips slightly, wondering what it would feel like when he started moving. Then, finally, she returned his kisses and nodded.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Alright.”

He pulled out and thrust back in slowly. She moaned, clutching his naked back tightly. She felt the marks she had left on his pale creamy skin and winced. To make up for it, she lifted her chin, nipping his earlobe so that he shuddered in pleasure. Gently and slowly, Ikuto set a pace, letting her get used to the feeling of him moving inside her. She was soon gasping his name with each thrust, her head thrown back in pleasure. He kissed her bared throat, suckling her pulse lightly.

Ikuto quickened his tempo, cradling her close against his chest as he made love to her. She clung to him, gasping in pleasure, her cheeks beautifully flushed to match the shade of her hair. Something hot was raging in her blood, gathering in her belly. He thrust deeper, harder, faster, so that the breath exploded from her lungs in some semblance of his name with each thrust. She twined her legs tightly around him, her arms around his back, her fingers tangled in his hair.

His pace became a little frantic, focusing on power rather than speed so that her small breasts bounced. She gripped him tightly, kissing the side of his throat, and Ikuto captured her lips with his own. When he came, she swallowed his moan of pleasure and tasted his love. Then, he collapsed beside her, still deep inside her small body and cradled her in his arms, breathing deeply.

“Amu, if you weren’t pleased, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She gasped for breath. Her entire body was flushed and felt shivery with pleasure. “You’re wonderful,” she whispered, tugging him closer into an embrace.

“Wait a second,” he murmured and crawled from the bed. She watched his naked body, the moonlight playing on his pale skin, her cheeks pink, as he peeled off the condom and buried it at the middle of her trashcan. He returned to the bed and nestled against her, cradling her small naked body in his arms.

For a moment, he thought about his bad luck, his curse as the black cat of misfortune, but then pushed them away. If he was so unlucky, he would have died that night in the freezing alley so long ago, but he hadn’t died. Amu had found him, brought him home, and had come to love him. If anything, he was a the luckiest boy in the world.

Amu snuggled deeper into his chest, sighing softly in contentment. 

Ikuto kissed her forehead gingerly and then let out a soft sound not unlike a purr. It was like a soothing lullaby that immediately lulled Amu to sleep, but he was awake much longer, just holding her, enjoying what he had in his life now.

…

Perched on the balcony outside the window was the golden-eyed black cat that had guided Amu to Ikuto that freezing night in the alley. It was both the bearer of good luck and bad, it was everything, it was both. Silently, it watched the young couple entwined together, mewled softly, and then vanished into the night.

**X:Black:X:Cat:X**

Classic important author's note. Please, read!

First, drop a REVIEW and let me know what you think! Are the characters way out of character? Think I tormented Ikuto too much? Are permanently disgusted and can no longer even watch Shugo Chara thanks to me? Loved it? Hated it? Are scarred for life because of Ikuto’s black cat obsession? Think there was way too much angst? (Flames will be used to roast marshmallows and weenies!) Think I need to do more editing before I post chapters? Post to slow? Chapters are too short? Too long? Yada, yada, yada…

Second, I own nothing except my original characters: like… no one in this story. But I do own my angsty plot. So there, now I can't be sued!

Third, there will be no sequel… at all, so don't ask!

FOURTH, please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! **The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger.** (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

Fifth, stay tuned for my next story (I plan to write another for Shugo Chara, so check in) or go read one of the others I have written!

Finally, thank you for making it this far! All the way to the end! Woot!

And so, I bid you adieu.

Questions, comments, concerns?

REVIEW!


End file.
